Good Grief, By George Weasley
by romionefan4eva
Summary: "But, let's make things clear. This is definitely NOT a diary. Diaries are for girls and prats. Its a notebook of feelings. A journal, if you will." George learns to cope with Fred's death. Romances, Bromances, Friendships and humor ensue.
1. Dear Journal

Hi. The name's Weasley. George Weasley.

...

I know what you're thinking with that pause. You're waiting for me to introduce my twin brother Fred...

Oh wait, he's dead.

So I understand if you want to stop reading now. Nobody prefers George over Fred. Nobody prefers George without Fred. I'm just a boring, grief-stricken young adult who uses my newly found bitter and sarcastic humor to cope with the death. I've lost my brother, twin, best friend, other half-oh, wait, I'm getting emotional again, aren't I? I've always used my wit, charm, and humor to entertain people; To hide emotions I find not worth divulging in. So, naturally, instead of talking about my feelings over Fred, I choose to cover them up with my newly acquired darker humor. It's a new me I don't quite like. But, hey, besides the whole Harry-Potter-killed-Voldemort-and-the-Wizarding-World-has-been-saved, I don't like a lot of things going on right now.

I usually tend to myself lately, I don't feel like associating with others. I hope it doesn't last long, I really miss socializing, but at the moment I just can't force myself to do it. Hermione told me I should write my feelings out in a diary, and that will help me cope. So that's what I'm doing. But, let's make things clear. This is definitely NOT dairy. Diaries are for girls and prats. Its a notebook of feelings. A journal, if you will.

Fred's funeral. I don't really want to get into it. But, let me prove a point. Whoever said weddings are the best places to pick up chicks, they were wrong. It's funerals. There were all these weeping girls throwing themselves on top of me, whether because they pitied me, they were giving condolences, they thought I looked like Fred, or they couldn't resist me. Funerals seem to make girls weepy and desperate. Had I been in the mood, I totally could've gotten some. There were lots of young girls who knew Fred who attended. He had touched many of their hearts, or breasts, whichever presented themselves first. Hey, I'm not going to judge. I've probably snogged half of them too.

"Hey, George," Percy opened my door cautiously, like they all do lately. "Dinner's ready."

Did I mention I live at home again? Yeah, I sleep in my old bedroom. And I haven't changed a thing.

It's not too odd, a twenty-year old living at home when he could be back at his apartment. Most of the family has been bunking at the Burrow ever since the Battle. It seems we've...bonded. But not me, I usually shun everyone out, except Ron.

Ron and I have always been close. He and Percy were the closest brothers to me and Fred's age, and naturally, we preferred Ron to Percy. He was more fun to be around, and had a better sense of humor. He had potential, but did not process the swagger Fred and I had to entertain a whole room. We called him mini-twinnie, or, if we felt like embarrassing him, Ickle Ronnikins. I'll never forget when he came to talk to me at Fred's funeral.

Everyone was socializing at the lunch-in after the funeral, celebrating Fred's life. But I was sitting in a corner alone at a deserted table. Ron walked over towards me, and hesitantly sat down.

"So...Hermione's decided to go back to school." He stated.

"That ought to slow down your sex life, won't it?" George said dulcetly. The look on Ron's face was priceless. Had I said it a week prior, I would've been proud of my own joke, and burst into laughter. But a lot can change in a week.

"Umm...I guess." Ron laughed uncomfortably.

"Well, look at the facts, Ron." I said, the prankster gleam shining in my eye, I just couldn't let this one pass. "You can't sneak in her room, and knowing Hermione, there's no way in hell she's sneaking into yours-"

"George! Come off it! But what I meant was, I'm not going back." He said seriously.

"Well, you've finally decided to listen to me and Fred and learn you don't need O.W.L.S or N.E.W.T.s to make it big." I told him.

"That's what I came to talk to you about, actually." Ron said. "I want to help you with the shop."

"I doubt the shop's going to be reopened anytime soon." I admitted.

"That's what I thought you'd say." Ron said, and looked at me, seriously. "Look, I know I'm not good with this serious stuff, but let me tell you this. It's rubbish that Fred's gone, but it'd truly be a bloody hell if you were gone too. I know you're still here, but it's just your body, not you. Fred wouldn't want you to see him like this. You have keep your head up high, and carry on his legacy. Why do you think everyone is talking and laughing over there? Because Fred wouldn't have it any other way. I've already lost one brother, I'm not loosing another. So you're gonna man up, put a smile on your face, and slowly become yourself again and tell jokes. And we're gonna reopen the shop, and make it bigger and better than ever, and you're gonna greet people and entertain them like old times. Because I know Fred Weasley would kick you in the arse if you did it any differently." Ron was crying, and I had a few tears rolling down my cheeks too.

"Ron Weasley," I began, "You just made yourself partner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." Ron smiled and embraced me. And I knew Fred was up in heaven, smiling, realizing his dork of a little brother had finally reached his full potential.


	2. Mirror, Mirror

Yeah, you know that whole Ron-is-now-a-part-time-owner-of-Weasleys'-Wizard-Wheezes-thing? I haven't gotten around to that. I haven't gotten around to much. Every time I think I'm ready to reface the world, I get terrified. I've never faced it without him.

Everyone says, "C'mon, George, why do you have to be like this? You know he wouldn't want you to be this way!"

And I reply with this: When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Most people see their reflection. I see my dead twin staring back at me.

They haunt me, mirrors. I haven't changed a thing in our room, although I put a blanket on the mirror above my dresser.

Once, I found an old hand mirror in my room. It frightened my for a second, and I looked closely, the only significant distinction between Fred and I, besides a few freckle placements; our eyes.

They were both a deep blue, but Fred's had a few green flecks in them. That's why the girls usually fell for Fred first, for his extraordinary eyes.

I looked at myself in the hand mirror for a long time, before smashing it. Seven years of bad luck. Oh, well. At this rate I won't know the difference.

There was one day I went into the bathroom, and forgot to put a spell over the mirror. My reflection startled me at first, but then I realized I had nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't Fred staring back at me. Hell, it wasn't even me staring back at me. It was a guy with tired eyes with bags and black circles under them. He had laugh lines that seemed to be retiring from underuse. He had a scruffy ginger beard, and unkempt straggly long hair. But I looked more closely, and saw his eyes. It was me.

The sight of myself disgusted me, but I didn't fix it. First of all, I didn't feel the need. I wasn't going anywhere. Second of all, it helped me distinguish myself from Fred. Fred would never let himself look like this. He would never waste away. And he most definitely would not let a girl see him like this.

But I didn't let anyone really see me much nowadays.

"George," His mother said, knocking lightly on his door. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry." I pouted.

"George, please come out!" Molly begged; I could hear her plea through her voice.

"Maybe later."

"Oh, Georgie, we're all so worried-"

"Maybe later." I repeated.

Five minutes later, I heard a rapid pounding on my door.

"I'll be down in five minutes! I promise!" I called.

The door swung open. "I wasn't asking to come in. I was simply warning you." Ron said, and began to come near George on his bed. "Ew, what happened to this place?"

"Nothing, that's what happened. I haven't touched anything. It's just collecting dust and dirty laundry." I said morosely.

"George, what's wrong with you?" Ron blurted.

"What's wrong with me? Gee, I dunno." I said sarcastically.

"You've gotta beard that will soon envy Dumbledore, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, and you smell like the ghoul in the attic." He said bluntly.

"What's the point anymore?" I croaked.

"What's the point? The point is Fred didn't die so you could sit all day and mope, and if he saw you like this he'd probably kill you himself. You need to show Fred that he left this Earth to make our world a better place. And you know how you can do that? By shaving that bush off, cutting your hair, taking a shower, getting some rest, socializing with others, getting out of the house, and cracking some jokes! And if you really want to keep on Fred's legacy, you'd reopen Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. That shop was his pride and joy, and I know he'd feel good knowing that his brothers were passing on disasters, distractions and idiotic diversions to future generations." Ron said.

"I guess you're right." I said fairly.

"If you don't open up that shop, I will. Fred's legacy must go on. And you know who I'll make my business partner? Hermione. Fred would be ashamed, and would give you a rough beating in heaven." Ron smiled.

"Oh dear God." I said. "You wouldn't."

"I would. She'd probably restock the Skiving Snackbox shelves with color changing dental floss. Do you really want that to be the hot ticket item at your joke shop?" Ron asked, eyebrow raised.

"I guess you're right. We'll reopen it soon."

"Soon? George, it's August first. Hogwarts is a month away! We gotta reopen fast, because all the young wizards are going back to school! With Ginny the only Weasley left at Hogwarts, we have to ensure there is another generation of pranksters to walk the halls! We gotta start soon!"

"We'll start tomorrow." I grinned, knowing if I didn't, Fred's ghost would seriously come to haunt me.

"Brilliant. But first, let's trim that weed whacker." Ron smirked, taking out his enchanted razor.


End file.
